Sonnet CCLXXVIII:
There blew a breeze across the flowers, that said,
‘Love is the sweetest thing which mortals know!’
And so I launched my shallop in the glow
Of scented morn that walked in gold and red.
There came a gale that muttered overhead,
‘Love is an earnest thing!’ I bent me low;
My face was stinging with the driving snow;
I knew not where my blinded vessel sped.
There rose a storm that hissed into my ear
Sobs out of heaven, and laughs of hellish mirth,
That made my shrinking spirit quail with fear;
While a sharp voice, that nowhere had its birth,
But filled all space, screamed suddenly and clear;
‘Love is a wreck, like everything of earth!’
